


A Guard's Firm Hold (Of My Heart)

by witheredsong



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:48:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6173410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witheredsong/pseuds/witheredsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Difficult ordinary happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guard's Firm Hold (Of My Heart)

Laurent wakes, all at once, in the way one does when one has rested fully, secure and loved. The window shows the full moon high in a velvet sky, white feathery clouds through the white curtains. The bed is empty and the torches are guttering low, throwing long shadows on the walls. He turns, feels the beloved ache of Damen’s attentions in his body, the sated happy hum in his mind, his heart content, as it only ever is when Damen is near, when Laurent knows Damen’s safe, and healthy and close.

His husband, he can now see, sits at the table near the window looking out at the Ionian sea, the moonlight creating a brilliant net of reflected rays on waves. Damen’s leonine head is resting on his hand, and in the light of a lamp, he is so beautiful, Laurent can’t quite breathe. His curls are mussed, and his beard makes him look statelier, the king is growing to be, just and kind and learning to manipulate his kyroi like chess-pieces. Laurent’s gift to him, just like the gold bracelet on his arm, like the once flawless skin of the back marred with faded silvery scars.

Damen, it appears, is reading a scroll. From the finely illuminated gold that catches the lamplight, it has finely crafted calligraphy. Reading for pleasure then, not the endless paperwork of statecraft. Laurent must make a sound, because Damen looks up, and smiles at him, so small and private and tender, so glad to have his presence, that Laurent feels his heart clench. In the first few months of their union, that smile, the words of love murmured in his ear by Damen, often could make his eyes prickle with unexpected heat. It left him defenseless, that joy of Damen in him, because it was so surprising, so terrifying for him, he who had trained himself out of the weakness of tears with punishing self-control, not two months after Marlas and his uncle between his thighs.

At this moment though - Damen is now gone back to the scroll, and the air is heavy with the scent of jasmine and oranges. The warmth of the moonlit night and the tangible peace in this haven of theirs soothes old scars. Laurent slips out of the bed, padding to where Damen sits and places a hand on his shoulder, bends close to see what makes Damen leave his bed at night, absorbs his attention. Damen reaches up, clasps Laurent’s fingers, and brings them to his lips, kisses them softly, rubbing his beard onto the delicate skin of Laurent’s wrist. And then pulls Laurent gently into his lap. Laurent closes his eyes and leans back against his husband’s shoulders, surrounded and cherished. He never takes this for granted, this extraordinary care of Damen’s for him, his enemy and beloved and refuge. Tucked into Damen’s neck, he murmurs, “What are you reading?”. Damen sighs, once, and his fingers comb through the tangles of Laurent’s hair, soothing. Holds Laurent closer and reads, quietly, simply:

“How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face”

Laurent’s breath hitches, and for a moment tears he had thought long dried up, threaten to spill. He fights for control, made defenseless by Damen’s lovemaking as always, left shattered with a few words. Damen’s hands, his strong, warrior’s hands sweep over Laurent’s back, offering comfort. Laurent sits up straight, still within the sanctuary of Damen’s embrace, and leans his forehead against Damen’s, looks into those dark dark eyes. He touches his mouth to Damen, petal soft, and recites back to him:

Infinite consanguinity it bears—  
This tendered theme of you that light  
Retrieves from sea plains where the sky  
Resigns a breast that every wave enthrones; 

And so, admitted through black swollen gates  
That must arrest all distance otherwise,—  
Past whirling pillars and lithe pediments,  
Light wrestling there incessantly with light,  
Star kissing star through wave on wave unto  
Your body rocking!  
and where death, if shed,  
Presumes no carnage, but this single change,—  
Upon the steep floor flung from dawn to dawn  
The silken skilled transmemberment of song;

_Permit me voyage, love, into your hands ..._

Damen’s eyes glitter, even as his arms pull Laurent even closer to his body, mirrored light and shade, brightness of gold and the steadiness of olive trees entwined, in Damen’s mother’s garden, in their difficult ordinary happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Title from Ibycus, _No rest for love_ Ed. 1.
> 
> 2\. Damen's Poem: From W.B. Yeats - _When you're old and grey and full of sleep_
> 
> 3\. Laurent's poem: Hart Crane - _Voyages_


End file.
